Holding holidays loosely

I’ve learned to hold holidays and traditions lightly.

I think sometimes that it’s one of the best, and hardest things that I’ve learned as a parent and spouse. Not every celebration or yearly holiday has to have to same set of situations, the same series of events, the same special set of checklists.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love those great treasures of “we always..” immensely.
They can be so lovely, and valuable.
But if you’re not careful they can quickly become life suffocating. The very thing meant to hold you together, or so you’re lead to believe, becomes the thing that can tie you all up in knots.

For the last two fourths of July it seemed we may have found “our thing.” A race, a parade, a visit to a lake. All the things you might love. But none have been repeated, even though we had high hopes for this year. Life just doesn’t always fit in the neat little boxes we try to shove it into, not without something breaking that is.

So we kept an open hand, there was give and take, and a lot of space to fill in the blanks and color -without lines but with lots of grace.
Without further mention, and with no real planning, I’ll tell you how it went.

We made red white and blue pancakes at home, bursting with blueberries and raspberries (unless you’re the one who doesn’t like that kind, and for you it was just white.)

We cut open that watermelon we had been saving, and ate it for lunch. Even as I started to unwrap it, I wondered if it should be for dinner instead. But the juice was too sweet and the pieces too red and perfect to wait now.

We made a few pizzas, and pasta, and salad and cut up peppers and ate outside under the awning. The temperature had cooled just enough, there was a breeze and we were able to relax and smile enough to not melt.

There was a very hot run earlier, and I haven’t sweated so much in years. The kind where once you stop, your whole body doesn’t quite know it yet, and before you know it, you’re as wet as if you ran through the hose. Speaking of, I wondered if we’d do that later.

We went for a nice big bike ride through some neighborhoods, the kids side by side and matched pound for pound, trying to make sure no one got ahead of the other. We talked about stopping home to grab a bag of sunscreen and towels, put on our suits, and ride to the pool club for a swim. “That’s a great idea,” declared my son.

We got home and daddy had cooked up a different plan , but we were all in. The drive -in movies, for what would be the first time. We loaded up blankets and swuishamellows and some pillows, and we petted the doggie goodbye and set off. We planned for burgers on the way and maybe even a milkshake . It was all of those things- plus juke boxes and fifties and 60s tunes, messy hands from too many condiments (so me), and thick milkshakes. Then a longish, silly wait for the drive in to open up, front row seats, snd a rather relaxed round (and a half) of mini golf. We played catch in the grass with new friends while the sun set and the fireflies came out to warm things up.

The movie was good, and the company better. My son was so relaxed and steed in his element it seemed, with a giant bowl of popcorn. My daughter sighed, “this is SO much fun.”

As we drove home so late, we parents saw some fireworks right next to the road as we passed at the exact time. I tied to take a picture to show the kids but it happened too fast and then it was finished. We carried our kids off to bed, and I thought of how they were snuggled in so close, next to me during the movie.
And someday I will long for that nearness, so easy and free. I will long for bikes rides where we dream up plans, only to come home and change them. And I’ll love how the watermelon never tasted so sweet or went to waste, not then, because there were eager hands set for helping. I’ll remember how long I spent trying to get the swimming knots out of hair, or the smell of bug spray as I sprayed multiple sets of legs and arms and necks that were not only me.
I’ll remember walking behind them, as the each were holding daddy’s hands, a bounce in their step and total anticipation, even though the mini golf doesnt look so great to grown up eyes.
I’ll smile anyway. I’ll remember that view, so well. The one that came from being a few steps behind, not ahead. From grabbing that bottle of bug spray that I was so glad I had, even though I hadn’t planned ahead to need. Even though I wouldn’t want to need it, it sure was nice to have. The opportunity and the spray. Because all of the best adventures come with a few stickier or trickier bits. And finding a work around for those things takes time, but it’s worth it.

And that view is everything.

Yeah, I’ve just had to learn that these plans can’t all be mine or go according to however I think they should go. There’s a million ways they might flip or flop, and I’m really just here for this view.

Walking together, with love.

I hustle to catch up with them, after taking a picture of course, and I think, not all things can or should be planned.

Not by me at least. I gave up my checklists and must-haves a long time ago. They’re right here walking around with me. With us.

That whole “Head down, planning everything” thing can be very tiring. And I much prefer this view. Front loading some efforts, but really, I’m just Along for the ride.

Not comparing what’s going on with my notes of “meant to” or what it’s “supposed to look like.”

Checking off those boxes doesn’t mean you’re actually checking out or enjoying the views. Isn’t that what’s most important anyway? You might end up seeing some you never expected, but will always treasure too.